Katanexy

Chapter 557: I’m well-behaved, you know?

Chapter 557: I’m well-behaved, you know?


Silence hung heavy over the casino’s luxurious bathroom, as if the marble walls knew they were witnessing something they shouldn’t.


Vergil had just heard Natasha’s words, and the laugh that escaped his throat was low, but laden with irony. A sound that echoed like muffled thunder between the glass and stainless steel.


He straightened his jacket, still smiling, and replied with that calm that only served to heighten the tension:


"You know... you’re right." His blue eyes sparkled, as if hiding storms. "I really do have enough women to care for. If I were to collect more, I’d need an empire just to keep them occupied."


Natasha blinked, surprised by the light tone. Vergil tilted his head, almost amused.


"Then relax, Natasha." He spread his arms, theatrical, almost mocking. "I won’t interfere in anything related to your Norse goddess. I’m not here to test my strength against other people’s myths." I’m just here to... have fun." The pause was accompanied by a wry smile. "And enjoy the evening with my two beautiful maidens."


The way he said "maidens" held more provocation than tenderness. But even so, there was sincerity in his voice.


Natasha watched him carefully, searching for any hint of deception. For years, she had learned to read psychopaths, corrupt politicians, mercenaries, even polygraph-capable mobsters. But Vergil was none of those things. He was... something else.


And yet, she knew: he was telling the truth.


The director sighed, the tension in her shoulders relaxing just a few degrees.


"Okay," she said finally. "If that’s the case... then Interpol won’t interfere with you tonight." She blinked slowly, as if signing a silent pact. "You won’t even be under surveillance."


Vergil raised an eyebrow, briefly surprised. Then he laughed, but this time softer, almost intimately.


"Hm. How generous."


He moved. A simple movement, but it transformed the air.


Vergil stepped from the sink and advanced toward Natasha. Not quickly, not aggressively—but with the inevitability of a rising tide. Each step seemed to echo louder than it should, until he was standing before her.


Too close.


So close that his nose almost brushed hers. The heat of his breath fanned against her face, and the soft scent of his perfume mixed with the metallic scent of raw energy enveloped her.


Vergil’s blue eyes were like slits opening into another world. Natasha held his gaze out of pride, but instinct screamed at her to look away.


He spoke softly, but his voice vibrated like suppressed thunder:


"Even if you wanted to watch me... you wouldn’t even be able to see me."


With each word, the pressure around him increased. As if gravity had doubled inside that bathroom.


Vergil continued, his tone even more serious:


"Be careful with your human arrogance."


His smile returned, sharp.


"I’m not the only one who knows you’re here."


He took a step back, and Natasha could breathe again. But before she had time to react, the metallic sound echoed.


CLACK.


The door behind them burst open, and four soldiers entered, guns raised. The metal gleamed in the white light, sights pointed directly at Vergil’s chest.


Two more appeared down the hallway, forming a makeshift encirclement.


Vergil just sighed.


He turned slowly, his hands still in his suit pockets, his body relaxed as if on a night stroll.


His gaze swept over the soldiers, each nervous face hidden beneath a mask of discipline. His smile returned—lazy, dangerous, amused.


"Hey," he said, with the casualness of someone asking for more ice for their whiskey. "Stop playing games."


The guns didn’t move.


"I’m well-behaved, you know?" He tilted his head, the blue glow flashing in his eyes. "I don’t attack weak humans."


The soldiers swallowed. Some wavered on the trigger.


And then, without further ado, Vergil simply turned away.


He walked away, his steps slow, his hands still tucked into his suit pockets, as if no guns were pointed at him. The bathroom door opened with a gentle shove from his shoulder, and he disappeared down the brightly lit casino corridor.


Silence.


Natasha tried to take a deep breath, but the air felt too thick. Her legs trembled uncontrollably. She tried to take a step—but her body didn’t respond.


The world spun for a moment, and she fell to her knees on the cold marble, her palms bracing the floor to keep from collapsing completely.


Her heart hammered in her chest, cold sweat trickling down the back of her neck. Every cell in her body screamed as if she’d just run a marathon under fire.


Her impeccable coat was now plastered to her skin, drenched in tension.


"Damn demon..." she whispered, her voice cracking. "Using your aura... to teach me a lesson."


She tried to get up, but her legs simply refused. Her muscles trembled as if they were about to give out again.


For an instant, Natasha—the woman who led Interpol with a steady hand, who faced criminals and monsters without ever blinking—realized the stark reality.


The difference between human authority and absolute power.


She groaned softly, helpless in the face of her own body, her pride burning more than her muscles.


Outside, the clink of chips and the casino music continued as if nothing had happened. The world glowed neon and gold, oblivious to the crushing weight that still held her breath.


Natasha closed her eyes for a moment, trying to regain control. But the memory of Vergil’s blue gaze burned into her mind like an invisible scar.


Vergil walked down the casino’s lit corridor as if the marble were a catwalk tailored for him. His footsteps echoed steadily but unassumingly, and the blue glow in his eyes seemed to reflect every neon light, every flickering screen, every golden reflection in the room.


Behind him, the bathroom still held the suffocating tension of minutes before, but his posture revealed no trace of it. His light air, his discreet smile, and his hands in his pockets indicated only a man returning from something as banal as adjusting his tie in front of the mirror.


In the grand hall, the clatter of chips, the metallic sound of slot machines, and electronic music vibrated in the air. The crowd danced, drank, gambled, laughing loudly—unaware of the presence of an entity that could, if it so chose, silence everything with a single gesture.


In the private lounge where he had left his companions, Kaguya and Alexa waited.


Kaguya, elegant in her silver dress that seemed made of liquid moonlight, drummed her slender fingers on the rim of her wine glass. Her expression was calm, but the glint in her dark eyes betrayed growing irritation.


Alexa, in contrast, stood with her arms crossed, her leg bouncing impatiently. Her red eyes sparkled beneath her dark makeup, and the faint growl escaping her teeth showed she was seconds away from getting up and chasing after him.


It was only when Vergil appeared, striding with his usual unassuming confidence, that they both straightened in their chairs.


"Finally," Alexa spoke first, her tone thick with sarcasm. "I thought I fell in the toilet."


Vergil laughed, low and deep, as he approached.


"Well, well," he replied, settling himself on the sofa between them, as if he were exactly where he belonged. "You two are too impatient."


Kaguya raised an eyebrow, studying him as if reading a riddle.


"You took longer than necessary." — he said calmly, but with a hint of accusation. — What happened in there, Vergil?


He calmly picked up a champagne flute from the table, swirled the golden liquid, and then took a slow sip.


—Nothing much, — he replied, with a smile that did nothing to allay their suspicions. — I just ran into old acquaintances.